Jiyong's Bloodlust

“Jiyong-ah!” Hand on hip, you pout cutely at the emerging entity, and tap your multi-colored converse on the gravel. You watch wearily as his twilight-bathed silhouette moves in front of you. His lips are quirked into the smallest of grins.
“Ne ne,” the pale-skinned male replies coolly. He encases your taut stomach with his arm. You allow yourself to be tugged backwards towards the playground, lip still upturned as arms fall listlessly at your sides.

“You’re starving!” you mutter concernedly after he gently—forcefully— pushes you onto the banana-shaped seat. You peer up at him with the candidness of a child. Unconsciously clasp the chipped chains of the swing with your lip between your teeth.

Jiyong chuckles airily, and it reverberates up the curve of your spine as your bones are being played like a xylophone. You’ve always found his laugh to be one of the most alluring things about him. Ivory canines, amused, red lips, and tattered sleeves pan in before he steps around you to grasp your tiny hands in his glacial, colorless ones.

“I’m fine.” his breath against your shoulder bleeds into your skin, stains your neck and face all sorts of red.

“Liar,” you whisper. You absently unfurl your neck to the sensation of his ginger-colored strands on your flesh. Jiyong’s lips feel like heaven against the side of your face, ignite a flurry of butterflies in your stomach that mercilessly tickle your ribcage. You release an irritated whimper when the heat of his torso fades from you, your combined grip on the chains tighten.

“Ready?” he sounds uncharacteristically thrilled, and you decide that you quite like the sound of his mirth. You nod in anticipation. Feel a grin creep onto your face as the swing reels back in his powerful grip. The butterflies hiccup in exhilaration, the sky scrolls up. Wind feels young and joyous against your cheeks.

You’re giggling madly as the swing rocks back, and though Jiyong is silent behind you, you can practically envision the pleased smile on his face. And it is insanely beautiful against the orange backdrop of your imagination.

--

“Yongie~ …” sand scrapes the interstices of your toes as you experimentally curl them in the earth. Said day-walker hums in response, fingers tip-toed over your opposing arm. Through the corner of your vision his dark lashes flutter closed, his chest heaves as he sucks in the cool, autumn breeze.

You battle the urge to touch his lips; they look pale in the glow of the moonlight, and you want to kiss the color back into them.

Stupid. What are you thinking about?

Your eyes skitter to your hand on his thigh when a faint blush polka-dots your skin.

“How come …” your tongue feels bolted to the roof of your mouth when he casually turns his head in your direction. Kohl-burnt, sienna eyes bore into the side of your head. And you want to smack yourself for how you are blushing like some bumbling virgin— not to say that you aren’t a virgin. You just considered yourself way above the cliché titles. But you suppose that he has always had this sort of impact on you.

His hand smoothes up the side of your arm as if coaxing you to continue. Your mouth quivers, and you force yourself to continue. Shyly glance to your black-lacquered toes peaking up from the sand. “How come you never … ask for my blood?” he visibly tenses at the inquiry.

You want to flinch, cry, run, and curl up into a ball until the beating of your heart slows to three dull thuds. Why do you have to be so straight forward? Knowing his type; wise beyond his years, unpredictable … stubborn to the tee. Of course he will never just flat out ask to have a bite to drink. Jiyong would rather die than accept someone else’s wrist. You are well aware of that. But his stomach is yelling considerably louder this time around, and you can see the hunger pangs tracing his beautiful visage.

Your train of thought disintegrates suddenly; the young vampire pulls you tight against him. You peer up through thick, brown bangs. The sight of his keen eyes set on you makes your heart slosh in your chest. He’s even gorgeous under the radiant glow of the stars overhead.

“Ji—”

“You eat so much garbage … I am afraid that you might make me sick.”

“Oppa~!” you whine, promptly whacking him on his arm. Talk about killing the mood. He chuckles, that sinful, enticing laugh of his. And you can’t help the smile on your face when his hand finds yours.

“Liar,” you mutter once again. A gasp barely makes it from your lips when you catch the amber glint of his irises in the moonlight. Peachy lips, satin hair, and eyes that hold so much energy catch you clinging to the edge of reality when his mouth suddenly encases yours.

He’ll have your blood someday, cackles some voice from the back of your mind. Only then will you truly feel connected to your angelic entity. Until then, you will have to settle for this. But you aren’t complaining. Especially not when his palm, large and gentle and cautious, eases its way up the back of your graphic tee. Those stubborn butterflies begin their native dance as he presses you into the sand, and kisses you passionately under the moonlight.

Hey..a jiyong fic!!! This was an awesome start, really liked it ^^
You're writing is really good, so much description!! I really enjoyed that though, thanks for sharing